Run, Sam, Run
by ImpassionedWriter
Summary: In order to keep his loved ones safe, Sam took out on his own to hide from the devil. But now, just when he feels safe, Lucifer shows up to sink his claws in.
1. Chapter 1- Run, Sam, Run

**Run, Sam, Run**

* * *

There was too much at stake to give in now.

Too many lives had already been sacrificed; and it would be a waste if he didn't keep saying no. Those deaths _had_ to mean something. A life was too precious to merely be considered as the side effect of a war.

It was a tragedy. And there was no way he was just going to fold now and throw it all to the wind.

Even if it killed him every day was alone.

...

"Sam, please. Sammy, I'm begging you... pick up the phone. I promise you we can get through this together."

"Hey, Sam, it's me again. Where the hell are you? Call me back."

"I got some news from Bobby today... Looks like we were right about the horsemen. Heh. you're not going to make me hunt the sons of bitches down by myself are you?"

"Hi. It's been three months already. Call me."

"Sammy, what the hell was that?! You see me and you just run away? What is going on? You don't have to hide from me. We can take down Lucifer together. Stop running! Just... _sigh_ ... just... please, come home."

"Come on, answer. I can't do this anymore if you're going to ignore me. I need to know you're okay."

"...You're never going to come back are you? Fine. Just... stay safe. Stay alive and when I kill this motherfucker, I am going to call you. And you can come home."

.

It had been six weeks since Sam had heard from Dean.

The phone calls used to come every day. It broke Sam's heart to hear the hurt in Dean's voice; although he never called him back. He couldn't risk even that.

But he still listened; he sat on the bed of whatever hotel room he was staying in at the moment, and played each and every single voicemail. It was painful, but at least it let him know that Dean was still out there, hunting.

Sam knew he shouldn't have run away. It was a betrayal so deep that the boys could probably never repair it. Years of trust, of being the only thing the other could count on... And he had given it all up.

But he had no choice. Lucifer was after him. The lord of the underworld was going to hunt him down and take him over. Use his own hands, the ones that had saved countless lives, to send the world up in flames.

And in some twisted way, Sam knew he had no chance of holding out. Sure, he could say no. He could deny Satan until his face turned purple. But that would only last for so long.

At some point, Lucifer would find him. He would tear apart everything Sam loved just to make him say yes. He would threaten innocent people to force Sam into surrendering. And there was nothing he could do.

Except push away the only family he had left, and hide. Keep running, keep hiding, and stay clear of anything or anyone Lucifer could use against him.

So far it had worked. Thanks to Castiel's handiwork on his ribs, he wasn't as easy to find as he could have been.

But, he still had to watch his back; demons were literally everywhere. Since the impending apocalypse had been sent into overdrive, the demonic activity had escalated to a shocking height.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do in the long run. He only had the plan of running.

Keep running.

Never stop running.

Don't call Dean.

Don't talk to anyone.

Don't stay anywhere for more than one night.

No one was following him, and he was doing a good job of maintaining a low profile. His relationship with his brother... that had just gotten caught in the crossfire. The casualty of a war they were pulled into and trapped in.

Of course Dean would somehow stop the end of the world, with or without him; he had faith in that.

But somewhere deep down, Sam dreaded the moment he would have to go back and face his older brother. It was hard enough to hear the raw feeling in his voice; but to see it all in his eyes, in person... It would kill him. No doubt about it; he would die inside.

Hatred consumed Sam, making his hand clench into a fist and shaking him to his core. What gave Lucifer the right to stake a claim on _his_ body? Why did Sam have to sacrifice a chance at a normal life, because of these damned angels and their family affairs? Why were he and Dean wrapped up in this twisted destiny?

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. It was too late to be stressing over this again. It was the way things were, simple as that. And nothing he could do could change them. Not right now, not without a clear grasp on what would stop it all.

Sam threw a glance at the clock on the wall and sank back into the bed. It was well past 3AM, and if he wanted to get a good start on the road tomorrow, then he needed to get some rest.

The ticking of the second hand quickly faded into the background as he slipped off into the sweet relief of sleep. .

...

"Aw, shit!" Dean Winchester regained his balance and glared disdainfully at the fold of carpet that had almost sent him tumbling to the floor. He shut the door of his hotel room after entering, tossing his jacket over the back of a nearby armchair. Then he fell back into bed and let out an airy sigh.

His eyes strayed over to his cellphone. It had been awhile since he last called Sam. Maybe he should let him know what's been happening...

Not that Sam would even get the message.

He had disappeared with no warning and had never even had the decency to even say goodbye. It wasn't hard to guess that he thought it would be easier to stay under the radar if he were completely lost to the world; untraceable, invisible. Even Castiel had had no luck in finding him.

Once, Dean and Sam had run into each other, almost literally, but he had turned tail and been consumed by the night.

Dean felt like the earth had been pulled out from under him when he saw the look of terror in Sam's eyes and saw him fleeing like a frightened rabbit. For all their lives, they had been each other's anchors; always there for protection and comfort. And to witness his little brother's abandonment not once, but twice...

It made Dean sick. He felt responsible somehow. It wasn't his fault, of course; but he had promised to keep Sam safe. He would do anything for him, anything at all. But now, it was over. And it could never be taken back.

Sam would never forgive him for letting him down. He didn't think Dean could take care of him; that was why he had left. It was obvious.

If he had trusted Dean at all, he would have known that the other hunter would never let anything happen to him. But he felt more secure out there on his own; which made Dean feel terribly inadequate.

But, if he could kill the devil, then he could get his brother back. And he could start trying to earn Sam's trust again.

But killing the devil... That had to be next to impossible. Maybe Castiel knew of some way to do it; or could at least help him to find a way to put Lucifer back in the cage.

And if not... it would still be nice to see a friendly face.

...

Two weeks ago, Lucifer had gotten word from one of his demons that they had finally located Sam.

Now he stood outside of the young hunter's motel room. It was almost laughable that Sam thought he could hide from his rightful owner. He was like a puppy playing a dangerous game with someone who disliked losing.

This hide and seek match had gone on long enough. Now it was time to remind that wide eyed puppy who his master was.


	2. Chapter 2- Taking Control

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed this story :) It means so much to me to get feedback!_

_And this is kind of a... farewell chapter for my best friend/first love, who just moved away for I-Don't-Know how long._

_ALSO, Countess Impossible, you are the messenger of Love's holy light! :) The MOST incredible, and that's that! As always, this is in some way inspired by your words of encouragement. I lurve you always and forever! :3_

* * *

**Taking Control**

* * *

The devil slipped quietly into Sam's room, careful not to make a sound closing the door behind him. There was an audible click as the lock slid into place, but one glance up reassurred him that Sam was still sleeping soundly in the bed occupying the far end of the room.

He took his time before moving; not wanting to risk waking the hunter.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light. Their unseen blue shimmered in the dark, sliding over the bare form barely hidden beneath a single sheet. A strange sense of pride filled his heart as he considered the athletic build and smooth contours of Sam's body. A body that would someday be his; in one way or another.

Sam's chest rose and fell softly, drawing Lucifer closer. He gazed down at the hunter for a long time; just watching him sleep, slightly overjoyed at having finally located his vessel.

The peaceful boy shifted a little, blissfully unaware that the one person he never wanted to see was standing over him right then, a dark glint shining in his eyes.

Lucifer leaned over him and lightly brushed away a strand of hair from the his face. Sam's serene expression contorted at Lucifer's touch and he took in a slow deep breath. His eyelashes fluttered before opening to reveal a startled pair of hazel eyes.

His eyes darted from Lucifer's hand on his face to the man hovering only inches away. The realization suddenly hit him that what he saw wasn't a nightmare, and in an instant he was scrambling as far away from Lucifer as he could. But the small bed only permitted him a few feet of distance before his back connected roughly with the wall.

The impact was jarring, but the pain was nowhere near as intense as the fear caused by Lucifer's wicked leer.

The blonde man tilted his head and asked, amused, "Hurt yourself, princess?"

His voice sent a chill down Sam's spine, but the hunter ignored it in favor of the rush of irritation at being called 'princess'.

He took an unsteady breath, attempting to calm himself down. Acting rashly wouldn't get him anywhere. All he needed to do was wait for an opening and bolt. He had managed to stay under the radar this long; giving Satan the slip wouldn't be that difficult. ...Would it?

When it became clear that Sam wasn't going to answer his question, Lucifer checked for himself to see if he had been injured. After all, this would someday be his body; he had to make sure it was taken care of.

A bruise was already forming. But it was small and could be taken care of easily.

His hand was on Sam's face before he could blink. A tingling sensation ghosted across Sam's back as the sensitive ache dulled until it disappeared altogether.

Sam jerked away from Lucifer's hand, his eyes narrowed. "Don't touch me." He growled.

Something dangerous flashed through Lucifer's eyes which scared Sam. Just a little bit.

He scowled, though, steeling himself against the intimidation that only came naturally when facing a being that had the power to snap him in half.

"Now, Sammy, that's no way to react to someone who's trying to help you." Lucifer scolded playfully, wagging his finger at the hunter.

The only reaction he got was a flinch when he moved his hand. Lucifer stared.

The slim man in front of him was still hugging the wall, watching him with suspicious hazel eyes. His posture was stiff, coiled for flight if the fallen angel made a wrong move.

So he still thought he could find a way to escape and continue to evade Lucifer.

How interesting.

Of course, it was a theory that was completely false. How silly of this naive little human to think that he stood a chance now. Someone should put him in his place.

The dark smile that crossed Lucifer's face made Sam's blood run cold. He could barely repress a shiver and swallowed at the nervous tightness in his throat.

The next thing he knew, Lucifer was reaching across the span of sheets between them. Sam tensed as Lucifer took hold of his chin and brought their faces close together.

His breathing was rapid, gaping at the blonde haired man. A crimson blush stole across his cheeks as he tried to pull back.  
His helpless attempt to wrench free only made Lucifer smile and tighten his grip.

"What are you doing?" Sam growled, through clenched teeth.

Lucifer leaned in until their noses brushed. He held the hunter's eyes with his own and spoke lowly, with a quiet but determinable force, "Let's get one thing straight Sam... _You are my vessel._ You cannot run, you cannot hide. There is nothing you can do to escape your destiny. You answer to me, and if you even try to give me the slip then the body count will rise to heights you could never imagine. Eventually, you will succumb to me."

Desperation coursed through Sam's entire body, crying for him to get out of here. _Break free! Run! Go!_

He strained against the devil's vice-like hold and squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his hands up to Lucifer's chest to push him back.

This couldn't be happening. He had been doing so good! It was months- _months_!- of flawlessly gliding under the radar. Why did _now_ have to be the time when it all fell apart? Just one more day, one more night of sweet sweet freedom... Please!

Lucifer laughed at the distraught expression on Sam's face and added one more sentence, the darkness of which had Sam freeze the moment it was said.

"And when your brother gets here, it's _his_ life that I'll take first."

Suddenly a tear slipped down Sam's cheek.

Lucifer started. He had only meant to make himself clear, get his vessel to understand that there was no benefit to resisting. He didn't mean to make him _cry_.

An unknown emotion pulled at Lucifer's heart. He softened and let Sam's chin go, watching in remorse when the young man crumbled before him. Sam turned his face away so Lucifer couldn't see him cry, but the sobs racking his body were evident.

Lucifer sat still on the edge of the bed and let Sam have his space.

The hunter stayed that way for an uninterrupted while, until he had no more tears to shed. Then he curled up on his side, facing the wall and stared at the peeling wallpaper morosely.

They remained that way for a long time in silence, one overwhelmed by pity and remorse and the other immersed in defeat.

...

"I know where your brother is." The demon hissed, spitting blood on the dusty floor.

Dean faltered mid-step, but resumed his saunter, not wanting to show the affect these words had on him. He continued to read aloud from the book in his hands. The words he spoke were ancient, an exorcism that was ripping this filthy bastard from the human he possessed.

The weakened demonic strength didn't help at all to pull free from the ropes that wound around the chair. It was the body of an accountant that he possessed. Mid thirties, dark wavy hair, and a face that would have been handsome had it not been distorted with evil.

The demon glared up at Dean with pitch black eyes, tracking the hunter's movements. Waiting for some small slip that would give him the upper hand. But his captor didn't even look up from the worn text.

The demon pulled back his upper lip, baring a row of blood covered teeth and sneered. "In fact, the Lord of Hell himself has gone to claim your baby brother as his vessel."

This caught Dean's attention. He stopped and gritted his teeth, muscle ticking in his jaw.

"He might resist at first, but once Lucifer's done with him he'll be _begging_ to say yes. Just so the pain will stop." The dark laugh that followed those words set Dean off, and in one step he was close enough to wrap his hand around the demon's throat, clamping down hard.

"You shut the hell up." He growled threateningly. Glaring into the black pits that were fixed on him, he scoffed at the demon's stupidity. He was going to send it back to Hell, clawing at brimstone all the way down. So how could it possibly think that bringing up Sam would change anything? If there were a single difference, it would be the fact that Dean would have thrown the sulfur spewing son of a bitch into hellfire with his own hands if he could.

The demon grinned through the pain and choked out, "He's going to burn that pathetic human's soul right out of his body. And there will be nothing you can do when people are screaming and dying... The ocean's will turn into poison and the sky will bleed red... And when he's taken control of his vessel, the first thing he's going to do is come after _you_-"

Dean tightened his hold on the demon's throat, cutting him off. He didn't even notice that the restraints holding him were unwinding.

The blood stained lips moved again, black eyes laughing, voice cracking just above a whisper. "The last thing you'll see before you die is the grin on your own brother's face as he rips the beating heart from your chest." He spat the last word, spraying Dean's face with droplets of blood. The hunter released his hold and viciously wiped at his face, creating dark smears across his skin.

While he was distracted, the Hell's spawn struggled out of his bonds. He threw them to the floor and took a step toward Dean. The unsuspecting man looked up just in time to see the glowering face of the now free demon before a fist connected with his jaw. The force sent him tumbling to the ground.

There wasn't even time for Dean to let out his surprised intake of breath before the demon was on him, straddling his chest and throwing punches.

Dean managed to get a punch of his own in, a smooth blow to the side of the head. But it had no effect and the abuse kept coming. He had just a fraction of a second to react, trying to push the larger man off of his chest while avoiding every strike he could.

He could feel the blood running down his face now; wet and sickly warm. The two wrestled in a tangle of violent blows and mingled blood.

Finally, Dean succeeded in shoving him away. They both scrambled to their feet and Dean made a mad grab for the book that contained the exorcism ritual.

He should really make it a point to memorize the damn thing already. Things like this happened far too often.

Just as his fingertips brushed the binding, a force threw him back against concrete wall. His head cracked against it on impact and pain shot through him, blinding in its intensity.

Through the blur of colors that swirled in his vision he could make out the silhouette of the demon. He pushed through the pain, pulling himself up and staggering forward.

The demon blanched at his approach and bared his teeth in frustration.

"Is that all you've got?" Dean mocked, holding his side. He had at least one broken rib and limped slowly across the room.

Clearly, the demon thought he was as good as beaten, since he didn't send him flying backwards again. But that didn't mean he wasn't still on-guard, and Dean was careful not to make any sudden movements.

He edged slowly toward the book that still lay on the floor, holding the demon's eyes with his own. "Is it because you're not allowed to kill me? Because big bad Satan wants that job for himself?"

The rewarded look was fierce. If looks could be put into actions, Dean would be having knives thrust into his eyes right now.

"I don't have to spare your life. I could kill you right now if I wanted to."

"Except you can't. In case you've forgotten, I have an archangel looking over my shoulder."

The demon's lip curled, "So where is this archangel now?"

Dean's anger flared. This cocky son of a bitch was getting on his nerves. And he was also right. Where the hell was this angel that was supposed to be giving a shit about preserving the life of his ideal vessel?

Dean's eyes went to the book. The demon's followed his line of sight and he realized what the hunter was up to.

Dean sprung into action just as the demon made a move to stop him. He dove to the floor, ignoring the screaming pain in his side, and grabbed the book, flipping it open to exactly the right page.

The demon tried to run for the door, but Dean's words caught him before he could make it. He dropped instantly to his knees, grabbing his chest in pain as Dean rattled off word for word the rite that would send him back to Hell.

"Stop! I know where your brother is! I can tell you where he is!" The bastard howled, wisps of black smoke already falling from his mouth.

Dean wasn't going to fall for the distraction a second time, no matter how much he wanted to know. He kept reading hastily, careful not to trip over the words.

"I-Idaho...!" The demon coughed up more of his own dark essence. "He's... in... Idaho!"

Dean ignored the pleas and sputtering coughs, as he came to the end of his exorcism. The empty corpse fell to the floor, leaking blood from every gash in the too-abused body. Dean snapped the book shut and made sure the possessee was really dead.

Then he limped to the door, holding his side. Only one thought ran through his mind.

_He's in Idaho._

.

Castiel met Dean outside the abandoned building, brow creasing in concern when he saw how badly Dean was injured.

"Why didn't you pray to me?" He asked, striding forward to meet Dean halfway. He reached out both hands to the hunter, steadying him by the shoulders, assessing how bad the damage truly was.

"I can handle a single demon by myself." Dean said, a little ashamed that one demon could hurt him this badly. But hey, the freak pulled the old _distract-him-by-talking-about-his-family_ routine.

"I could have helped you." Castiel's voice was soft and Dean dropped his gaze from the angel's piercing blue eyes. He had to fight to keep from blushing at Castiel's gentle but firm grip on his shoulders.

_'Damn touchy-feely angel and his stupid angel mojo.'_ Dean cursed inwardly. Why was he always so fidgety under the angel's touch?

"I didn't need your help." He said a little too harshly.

Castiel's eyes were wide with surprise at Dean's surly attitude. "But, Dean... Clearly you were unable to do this simple thing without being severely injured. It is imperative that you start praying to me when you require my assistance. Otherwise, you'll end up getting killed."

Ah, yet another person close to him carrying doubts about his ability to keep the world safe. Dean's frown deepened. He huffed and retorted, "Whatever, just hurry up and heal me already. And besides, it doesn't matter if I do die... Michael will just drag my soul back here anyway."

Castiel obliged Dean and raised two fingers to his forehead to mend him. Just before doing so, he murmered almost too low for Dean to hear, "It matters to me."

Then Dean felt the familiar warmth of life spreading through his body. He let his eyes close as the pain faded away and considered what Castiel had said.

Maybe he _should_ call on him for help more. But would it really do anyone any good to do so? It was just fine the way they did things now. Nothing had ever happened that Castiel couldn't fix. So what was the angel so worried about? It wasn't like Dean was throwing himself into the line of fire.

No. Castiel just didn't know that this was the way Dean had to do things. It was the only way.

Sam would understand.

And speaking of Sam...

"Okay," Dean cleared his throat, stepping away from Castiel when he was fully healed. The angel had a habit of letting his hand linger against Dean's skin; which wasn't in any way unpleasant. Just... awkward.

"Our next stop is Idaho."

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "Why Idaho?" He asked.

"Just taking a little R&R." He lied The angel lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. With one last glance at wistful glance at Dean and the sound of flight, he was gone.

It probably would have been a better idea to tell Cas the real reason Dean was headed across the country, but he knew the overly practical angel would bring up the fact that the demon could have been lying. And Dean didn't want to hear that. He knew it could be a lie; and he didn't care.

Even if there was just the slightest chance that he could reach Sam before Lucifer caught up to him... He would do whatever it took to keep Sam out of harm's way.

Even though he ran off...

Even though he had no trust in Dean...

They were still brothers.

And nothing would ever change the fact that Dean would give his life a million times over to save Sam's.

And true, he might be heading right into a trap. It might even be a part of Lucifer's plan to get him down there so he could use him as leverage to get Sam to say yes. He was walking straight into danger's grasp. But he would still do it. He had to.

For Sam.

There was no way he would let his brother face the devil alone. _He _knew the power of being together in the face of the unknown.

Besides, he couldn't get in too much trouble. He had Castiel ever ready by his side. A reminder that gave him the comfort and courage to get behind the wheel of the Impala and head for Idaho.

Even as he drove, though, Dean couldn't shake off the nagging fear that maybe- just maybe- he was driving right to his death.

"Dammit, Sam." He muttered.


End file.
